PAIGE
The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white outside the tinted windows. The drive felt endless.
The only sound was the whisper of the tires on asphalt and the frantic beating of my own heart, amplified by the silence and the feel of this impossibly expensive dress against my skin.
He hadn’t said a word since we got in the car. He just sat there, a powerful, smug silhouette, looking out at his kingdom.
I couldn’t take the quiet anymore. It felt heavier than any argunt.
"So," I began, my voice sounding too loud in the hushed interior. "Where are we going?"
He didn’t turn his head. "Dinner."
I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t stick. "You’re infuriating. You know that’s not what I’m asking."
This ti, he glanced at , a flicker of amusent in his dark eyes. "No reason. I just felt like taking you out."
The casualness of it, the sheer, simple statent, threw more than any elaborate, sarcastic excuse would have. It was... almost normal. And nothing about us was normal.
"Wow," I said, my tone dripping with mock awe. "And you couldn’t manage to form that into a question? Like, ’Paige, would you like to have dinner with ?’ You know, like a functional human being might?"
A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face. He loved this. He loved pushing , winding up just to see how I’d react.
"Where’s the fun in that?" he purred. "Asking properly lacks... dramatic flair. Besides," he added, his gaze dropping to the silver slit in my dress, "I prefer my invitations to co with a side of anticipated victory."
My cheeks ignited. I could feel the blush spreading down my neck. I had to look away, turning my face sharply towards the window to hide it. "Your ego is going to need its own zip code soon."
"Look at ," he said, his voice a low command.
"No.".
It was a childish, reflexive refusal. My heart hamred against my ribs. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face.
I felt his hand then, warm and firm, cupping my jaw. He didn’t force , but his touch was undeniable. He gently turned my face away from the window and back towards his.
My blush was on full display now, a traitorous flag of surrender. His eyes scanned my face, taking in the flushed skin, the slightly parted lips, the defiant yet helpless look in my eyes.
He didn’t say another word. He didn’t smirk. He just leaned in and kissed .
It wasn’t like the hungry, desperate kiss from his office. This was different. Softer. A slow, deep, claiming kiss that felt less like a battle and more like an answer.
His thumb stroked my cheekbone, a surprisingly tender gesture that shattered my last remaining defenses.
When he finally pulled back, my head was spinning. The city lights were just a beautiful, aningless blur outside.
He rested his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the small, charged space between us.
"See?" he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. "No question needed."
The car didn’t stop at so intimate, discreet restaurant. It glided to a halt under the dazzling, art-deco marquee of the Rainbow Room, sixty-five floors above Rockefeller Center. The place was a legendary event space, not a quiet dinner for two.
I looked at the grand entrance, then at Reon, my expression flat. "What the fuck, Reon?"
He just smiled, that infuriating, knowing smile. He got out and offered his hand. "It’s a party, Black Cat. The grand opening of the New York branch for Suzu’s family’s investnt firm. Champagne, canapés, and a room full of people who would love to see you stumble."
My heart sank, just a little. A stupid, traitorous part of had been... hoping. Hoping for a quiet corner, a table for two, just him and without an audience. The feeling was a sharp, unexpected pang of disappointnt.
I took his hand and let him help out, the cold night air a shock on my skin. "A party. Of course it is."
He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm, leaning close as we walked toward the elevator that would shoot us up into the sky. His voice was a low, mocking whisper in my ear.
"What’s the matter?" he purred, his eyes glinting with cruel amusent. He’d seen right through . He’d read the fleeting disappointnt on my face and was now savoring it. "Did you think I brought you all the way out here, in a dress like that, just to have you all to myself?".
I looked straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Don’t be absurd."
He chuckled, a dark, rich sound. "Don’t worry, baby girl," he murmured, the unexpected endearnt sending a jolt straight through . "We’ll have our own private celebration... soon."
A fresh, furious blush exploded across my cheeks, so hot I was sure it was visible in the elevator’s polished brass. Baby girl. The words, laced with his signature sarcasm, felt more intimate than any kiss.
I had no retort. My mind went completely, utterly blank. All I could do was stare at our reflection in the doors, at the tall, man and the woman in silver beside him, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassnt and a thrilling, terrifying anticipation.
– – –
Stepping into the Rainbow Room was like walking into a live hornet’s nest of ambition. The party was in full, roaring swing.
The sound of a jazz quartet was almost drowned out by the deafening hum of a hundred conversations, all about rgers, acquisitions, and market dominance. The air was thick with expensive perfu and the clinking of champagne flutes.
My fingers, laced with Reon’s, tightened instinctively. It was a small, fleeting mont of overwhelm, a silent plea for an anchor in this sea of sharks.
He felt it. Of course he did. He didn’t look at , but his thumb stroked the back of my hand once, a quick, almost dismissive gesture. A smirk touched his lips. He was enjoying my discomfort, or maybe just my need to hold onto him.
It wasn’t even twenty minutes, and it felt like we’d been paraded in front of half of Wall Street. Fifty introductions, minimum. A blur of firm handshakes, nas
I recognized from the Forbes list, and calculating eyes that assessed , the woman on Reon Daki’s arm, as a new variable in their financial equations.
We were locked in a conversation with the silver-haired CEO of a massive hedge fund, a man who spoke about human beings as "labor assets." Reon was in his elent, his replies sharp and effortless, playing the man like a chess piece.
My smile was starting to feel permanently glued on. My head was beginning to pound from the noise and the effort.
I leaned into Reon’s side, my voice a low murmur only he could hear. "I need a minute. Ladies’ room."
He glanced down at , his gaze briefly scanning my face. He saw the strain I was trying to hide. His smirk widened a fraction, as if my breaking point was a personal victory for him.
"Don’t get lost, Black Cat," he said, his voice a low purr. "The vultures are circling. I’d hate to have to fight one off for you."
"Just try not to acquire any new companies while I’m gone," I shot back, the retort automatic, a thin shield for my need to escape.
I pulled my hand from his and turned, weaving through the glittering, noisy crowd. Each step away from him felt like I was shedding a layer of armor, leaving exposed.
I just needed a mont. One quiet mont to breathe, away from the performance.
– – –
The bathroom was a sanctuary of cool, quiet marble. I splashed cold water on my wrists, trying to wash away the claustrophobic feeling of the party.
The face staring back at in the mirror looked pale, the confident facade I’d worn for the last hour beginning to crack at the edges.
I took a deep breath, straightened the silver straps of my dress, and stepped back into the hallway. It was emptier here, a plush, carpeted buffer zone between the opulent restrooms and the roaring party.
I’d taken only three steps when a figure detached itself from the shadows near a potted fern, blocking my path.
It was him. The venture capitalist from the business dinner. The one whose gaze had felt like sli on my skin. Up close, he was older than I rembered, with a too-tan face and eyes that road over with a possessiveness that made my skin crawl.
"Paige," he said, his voice a slick, oily sound. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’ve been watching you all night. You’ve been very busy, ignoring all my signals."
I stopped, crossing my arms over my chest, a feeble barrier. "I haven’t been ignoring anything. I’ve been working. Now, if you’ll excuse ." I tried to step around him.
He shifted, easily cutting off my escape. His smile widened, turning nasty. "Co on. A girl like you, with that dress... you’re not here to ’work.’ You’re here to play. And I can play much better than Daki. I’m sure I can treat you better, too. A lot better." He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my shoulder.
The touch was a violation.
I recoiled, slapping his hand away. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. "Don’t touch ."
His expression hardened. The fake charm evaporated, leaving behind sothing ugly and entitled. "Don’t be like that. We both know what you are. You’re his shiny new toy. But toys get passed around. You might as well enjoy it."
Rage, cold and sharp, cut through my fear. "You have no idea what you’re talking about. Get out of my way." I put a hand on his chest and pushed, putting all my strength into it.
He didn’t budge. Not an inch. Instead, he laughed, a short, cruel sound. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like a vise. "Feisty. I like that."
Panic began to claw its way up my throat, cold and sharp. I tried to yank my arm back, but his hold only tightened, his fingers digging into my bone. I was trapped. The noise of the party was a distant roar, no help at all.
"Let go. Now," I demanded, my voice low and shaking with a fury I desperately hoped masked my terror.
He leaned in closer, his breath hot and slling of stale champagne. "Or what? You’ll run back to your master? I’m not scared of him. And you shouldn’t be either. I can give you everything he can."
His other hand ca up, aiming for my waist, pulling closer against him. The world narrowed to this hallway, his crushing grip, and the cold dread solidifying in my stomach.
I opened my mouth to scream, but the sound caught in my throat.
And that’s when his head snapped to the side.
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